Divorce Prejudice

Earlier this week, I had lunch with an old friend.  I'd bumped into him the week prior and upon taking his card, promised to follow up.  This man is +/-12 years my senior, white, upper class (for MS), working in a tangential industry to architecture (my first career).  He was instrumental in supporting me therein (while I was working in the private sector) for a number of years.

Around 16-17 years ago, this man surprisingly divorced his wife, and though it didn't hit me as hard as it would have otherwise (if we'd been closer friends), it still hit hard.  For I knew his wife indirectly (I'd perhaps met her twice), and I knew he had two beautiful children.

Why?

I honestly don't know how to say this with any distinct class.

When I get to know men, any men, I see inside, and unless they're absolute fools (which very few are), it's obvious to me that a high percentage of their divorces are clearly longstanding relational forfeits.  And this seems to be especially true when children are involved.  In other words, a divorce, to me, unless it involves adultery, abuse, addiction is very rarely warranted.  You might say this is an unreasonable approach I'm presenting (especially if said spouse is being "unreasonable")!  And that's true.  I really can't be reasoned with here.  Divorce should be avoided at all costs.  The Bible makes that clear, therefore why don't we follow suit?  

We don't follow suit because we're birds of a feather, and getting divorced provides an accepted cop out that many folks willingly choose.

Along with divorce comes a certain tainting or mark that's inevitable.  And, as you know, it's a forever mark that's almost impossible to hide.  I believe most divorcees never realize this 'till it's too late.  Now, whether or not they truly care therein is up to the individual.

As a sidenote, earlier today, whilst at the Y, I overheard two older men chatting about grieving the loss of (one of these men's) a spouse.  After 10+ minutes of heartfelt diatribe, the newbie widower admitted that his now deceased wife was #2.  In response, his friend admitted to being right there with him.  In fact, he cited his first marriage as his "practice marriage".  Puke.

And these were some old dudes who were making light of their historical, relational failures.

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Interestingly enough, during this same lunch, another old friend made his way into the restaurant.  And too, this was a colleague from my architecture days.  The difference though was this man (who's 5-8 years my senior) worked directly with me (again, private sector position).

And like my lunchable friend, he too eventually divorced his beautiful first wife, leaving his only child, a son, to manage the fallout after the fact.  

If there's one man, for me personally, that's a divorcee (failure) figurehead, it would be this guy.  For I knew him prior to marrying even.  But as the years went by and his (first) wife's mental health weakened; his resentment was so very obvious.  For his mockingly disrespectful words (of her, to anyone within earshot) more often than not, made my ears bleed and my heart hurt.  

Eventually, prior to his quiet divorce, he began a heady emotional affair with a much younger colleague of ours at work.  It was so obviously toxic to everyone on staff, yet no one but me chose to speak up (to the owners).

I can still see the two of these lovebirds staying long after 5 o'clock, gazing into each other eyes from the confides of this man's windowless office.  Puke.

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Overall, I renege when it comes to deeply befriending men who're divorcees.  The only time I've bucked that trend was back in 2013 whilst working at Delta State.  At that time, there were two men who I befriended who were as such.  One had chosen to not remarry and the other had been remarried for some time.

I was desperate for friendship whilst residing in that small town environment.  These two were both platonically attractive in light of their pasts.  

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When my parents' marriage exploded due to chronic infidelity (early '80s), according to my father, my parents sat down and seriously discussed the implications of divorcing:  financial, emotional, etc.  Afterwards, neither chose that route, and from there, they trudged forward in spite of the mistrust / woundedness.  

Was their marriage ever the same?  No.  

But I can say this in full confidence:  Had they divorced, only child me having to deal with that fallout in tandem with my own interpersonal (sexual identity / struggles with lust) suffering would likely have been too much for me to bear.

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I'm pleased to report that I'm becoming more sympathetic and forgiving of divorcees.  I never imagined this would occur.  I do believe my time at Delta State (2013) did me some good in that regard.  For it forced me, out of desperation, to give divorcees a chance.  A chance to be heard and loved in spite of their mark.

The Night He Got Jumped By His Former Youth Pastor / It Took Two To Tango / Was This An Isolated Incident? - Stories That Resonate

It is not getting any easier admitting to my neediness.  Over the past quarter (& then some), my wife has been working 12-hour days (home office), and because she's a night owl, most of her workday has been well past 5 PM.  As such, a typical evening (throughout the workday and weekend) consisted of tiptoeing in order to not disturb her grind.  And it was my privilege to step up in this regard.  

Since she became physically disabled due to her May 2020 stroke, a lot of additional housework naturally fell on my shoulders.  Thanks be to God we live in a manageably scaled home (with a small yard)!  Too, only having one additional kidlet (of three total) at home (who's the epitome of obedience and cooperation) to feed / tend to, helps tremendously.

My wife is quite ambitious and very, very capable as a sole proprietor.  Her clients almost immediately recognize this, and therefore lean into her professional services (she's a CPA).  

But where does that leave our marriage - during ramp up / intensely busy seasons?

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Twice last week, I delved back into gay porn.  And of note is how I hit repeat regarding one video I stumbled across in particular (this is very rare for me to do).  The models within this particular vignette were having some passionately dramatic sex, and I mean passionate with a capital P.  In fact, there was more emphasis therein than on your typical hyper close-up genitalia shots.  It felt more like a Hallmark version of Colt Studio than anything else.

But what was truly relevant was the following.  It felt like a porn video made exactly for me for such a time as that / this.

Thursday, (4/11) I began to reckon with just how emotionally needy I truly am at this time, having endured this last quarter.  

My wife and I went out to eat Saturday night at a fairly new restaurant close to our abode.  It was fantastic to steal away as such!  But man, we have a long way to go pertaining to regaining our regularly scheduled marital footing, and it was apparent that neither of us wanted to admit to this.

Nonetheless, both of us realize that marriage is seasonal, and that there'll always be emotional connection pauses that occur, circumstances being whatever they may be.  

They are so not fun though, and arguably leave us both vulnerable to outside forces / temptations.

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Years ago, I attended a Samson Society story retreat over a weekend.  This was my second story retreat, and I was happy to once again support my old friend, Mr. Chris Inman, therein.  A fellow attendee shared a "story of shame" that Saturday afternoon involving his former youth pastor jumping him late one night.

Apparently, this story retreat attendee had (post high school) further befriended, as an adult, his youth pastor.  As such, the youth pastor had divulged his struggle with same-sex attraction (he was single) to this now married with multiple small children (with another on the way) man. 

That friendship naturally matured and continued to warrant time together, and during this particular then recent juncture, the two men were sleeping over at the youth pastor's place.  And that's where the unexpected sexual advance occurred.  

As a result, the younger man immediately fled the scene.  The understandable reactional stress motivated him then to reach out to his parents for support.  Frustratingly, they (particularly his mother) felt their son was overreacting, taking into account the tenured friendship as well as the youth pastor friend's spotless platonic / parochial record.  

At the conclusion of this tale, all I clearly remember is this dude was tremendously angry.  Tremendously angry.  At both his former youth pastor friend / mentor as well as his parents (combined with the world at large).  

I've thought about that story for years and years.  I attempted to follow up with the guy not long after the retreat was over in order to hopefully understand / flesh out more details, but to no avail.  He was absolutely not interested in talking to same-sex attracted Rob (can you blame him?).

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Last summer, a new potential friend (completely unaffiliated with Samson Society) literally fell out of the sky into my sphere of influence.  My aforementioned younger daughter and I had volunteered for a Saturday mission trip (with our church) to Greenwood.  This new friend volunteered too in spite of his family not being a member of our congregation.  If you've read previous blog posts, hearing of this guy is old news.

What makes this new friend so special to Rob is twofold:

1.  His physical presence is intimidating.  This coupled with his reserved persona only add to his exceedingly foreboding posture.  It's important to know that my masculine archetype is very much in line with physical attributes that telegraph the notion of "mysterious threat".  I have no idea why that is.  I've just learned to roll with it.

2.  I'm his first true "big city" (urban / suburban) friend outside of his extended family.  Hence, I want to serve him well as such, being mindful of my influence.

He and I are geared up for around-the-bend warmer days.  Days where we can take our girls swimming, kayaking, exploring the Mississippi out-of-doors.  These are anticipated future memories that engender me with sizable opportunities to BE SEEN whilst seeing him vulnerably.  

I cannot emphasize enough how restorative these experiences will be to my soul.  Our friendship was so embryonic last summer that what few we had like these felt almost surreal - for both of us - in and of themselves.  Mostly due to how unexpectedly initial common ground we found both of ourselves enjoying.  As such, summer 2024 awaits...

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The questions before I close.

-  Will I ever truly come to understand how effectively educated I've become via Samson Society in terms of healthy (modeled & otherwise) male-to-male relationships?

-  By receiving the raw emotion (positive or negative) from another Samson guy, in light of his experience with the unexpected, does this exposure qualify as truly vicarious or is it simply me being a novel spectator?  Furthermore, what constitutes either side of that experiential equation?  

-  Knowing that my new local friend isn't a Samson guy, will that insure, to some degree, the longevity of our friendship (less competition / him not being a pervert as I am)?  

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Samson Society emphasizes recovery, and it most certainly should.  But, an indirect benefit, is the opportunity to become immensely respectful of brotherly love male friendship - both inside & outside of this community.  Regardless, those couplings truly are supernatural - especially here at middle-age.  And, of course, they're absolutely just as, if not moreso, supportive therein within their own unique way.

Thanks be to God for men, image-bearers of the living God.  

     

What Is The Greatest Gift You've Given Your Wife?

 

A heat sink is a technical term for a portion of a machine that is crucial to managing / regulating the buildup of heat.  This heat is waste energy that's necessitated relative to the machine's creation of movement or light or any number of good things.  Were it not for the existence of the heat sink, this waste energy (in the form of heat) would almost immediately destroy the machine itself by overheating.  Therefore, components would melt down, motors would seize, and everything would go to shit very, very quickly.

Engineered heat sinks are typically bulky and not at all very aesthetically pleasing, therefore they have to be discreetly positioned within the device in order to not draw unnecessary attention away from the whole.  When they're doing their job well, the machine can run at maximum efficiency, performing remarkable work whilst being protected from the inevitable but deadly waste heat.

That being said, Earth's oceans are a God-designed heat sink.  They do their job by absorbing radiant heat from sunlight throughout the day whilst slowly radiating that absorbed heat energy into the atmosphere during the evening.  This oceanic heat absorption / release cycle is paramount to regulating Earth's weather patterns whilst also allowing our planet to benefit so fully from unencumbered sunlight as it spins away on its axis.

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Not long after Angie and I were married (27.5 years ago), we agreed to participate within an evangelism education program at First Baptist Church Jackson (where we were church members).  The 8–12-week program met on a weekday night, and after sharing a meal / listening to the evening's evangelism training lesson, teams of three set out into the city of Jackson to evangelize.  Because our church was as large as it was, there was usually a plethora of recent church visitors who were our first targets.  

I distinctly remember my team visiting a soon to be divorced young wife and her two children.  She was beautiful yet obviously very stressed, sitting there perched on the edge of the stylishly upholstered couch cushion within her family's sizable northeast Jackson home. Everything about her telegraphed the stress of her still new reality.  It was unmistakable and very unsettling to observe.  From the way her eyes darted around her living room to how she nervously reigned in her restless (& soon to be somewhat fatherless) elementary-age children.  It was as if she had been a victim of such the unexpected trauma (which she had), and as a result, everything looking ahead had a deep-seated brokenness framing it. 

I came away horrified at how powerless I was to this woman's woundedness, having never in a million years expecting to be faced with such the despairing situation during a routine church follow-up.  I cannot stress enough the awkwardness between our evangelism team (of three) and this smoldering heap of hopelessness of a human being, during those few minutes.  For it was literally off the charts.  

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I first befriended my wife when we were in high school.  She was an overweight, overly dolled up (cosmetics) porcelain doll of a girl with enough black head hair to easily manufacture three wigs with.  Angie was terribly shy yet so very intelligent / articulate (when she would actually speak).  Whenever I found myself with her (which wasn't very often), I always attempted to make her as comfortable as I possibly could.  And usually, that involved me attempting to inject humor into both the situation we found ourselves within along with the dialogue.  

Angie was naive but only because of her upbringing.  Her parents were much older (20+ years) than most girls her age, and overall, they were prudish to a fault.  

Eventually, she broke free of most everything I've described here (related to her childhood) by attending college far enough from Jackson, Mississippi that she was essentially given the opportunity to reset her entire existence.

Nonetheless, one absolute treasure that came about, in spite of her stifled upbringing, was the emotional counterbalance she naturally developed with her father.  For were it not for that, she and I would not be married today.

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"I can no longer trust him with my feelings."

This mantra is often repeated like a drumbeat within the minds of scorned wives / girlfriends.  For no matter what her man did to warrant this statement, once it's concretized within her mind, it's often a point of no return.

So, what does that statement actually mean?  Never - under any circumstances - would a husband / boyfriend be inclined to say this about his woman.  

"I can no longer trust her with my feelings."      

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Women crave security from their man just as men crave respect from their woman.  And that security extends to providing her with a means to contextualize / organize / engage with the vernacular of her (specific) real-time emotions.  And he doesn't have to be physically present for this to occur.  Not at all.  But he must be emotionally compatible therein and have made (some sort of) a commitment to that compatibility being used to her / their benefit. 

On the flipside of that process, most men (husbands / boyfriends) naturally reciprocate / counterbalance this "heat sink" role via sexual intercourse.  

In essence, the notion is that once he's reached a certain emotional capacity, he uses that reserve to perform sexually.  Therein naturally releasing that excess via coitus before the process starts all over again. 

This is why so many marriages fail as a result of adultery, if you follow this logic.  For it signifies that the husband has found someone else who's just as (if not moreso) compatible as the wife once was.  As a result, the marriage appears to be an outdated one (not unlike a high mileage machine). 

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In closing, this compatibility truly is something special when it's discovered.  And, oh my goodness, does it drive women crazy when it's first set in motion (dating).  Hence, the reason fornication is so prevalent (easy for guys to seduce towards) early into a relationship.  For these ladies are experiencing an incredibly optimized state of being during those initial romantic days.  It truly is being fully alive for them whilst radically buttressing their man's ego throughout.  

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When Angie was in the rehabilitation hospital in Jackson, post stroke (2020), I was so thankful to be allowed to have dinner with her every day in spite of the COVID-19 visitation restrictions.  Whilst looking back, I'm still unsure as to how this accommodation was made for us.  Nevertheless, whenever I'd show up after work, there'd be an extra plate of hospital food waiting for me.  

Oftentimes, I'd wheel her down to floor three, and we'd enjoy our dinner out-of-doors on the covered patio overlooking the adjacent (under construction) children's hospital wing there at University Medical Center.  She'd recount the therapy sessions she'd experienced during her day, and we'd chitchat about the girls / my work.  But I could feel her during those moments, so very efficiently, using me for her own emotional good.  For there was so much emotional energy within her - both positive and negative - during this trying time.  

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In conclusion, if your marriage is healthy, you're very likely married to a woman who had a father who demonstrated a proper compatible male / female emotional relationship.  From there, she grew to become a woman and eventually found a similar compatibility in you.  BE THANKFUL FOR THIS. 

The beauty of all this is in how effortless it operates within the relationship.  For it's God's beautiful, perfect design.

As such, it should be cherished, protected, regaled. 

Lagniappe (Pages 16-22)       

Rob's Sobering Drive Home

I'm fortunate to live within a metro that simply doesn't have a snarled traffic expectation attached to it.  Hence, unless its holiday season (Xmas), I'm not at all constrained to come and go from home undeterred as I please.  As a result, Jackson, Mississippi and its surrounding suburbs feel more like a big-small town than a thriving urban metropolis.  As such, vehicular transportation flows relatively freely, and much of this can be attributed to the fact that a large majority of the city's (Jackson) impoverished (black populace) simply do not own cars.

Throughout the majority of my free-flowing drive home one afternoon this past week, I carried on disturbed, having spotted a couple exiting a (known) therapist's office, heading towards their parked car.  Obviously, this emotionally raucous (weighty) disturbance was centered around me knowing this husband / wife.  And not only that, but that knowing being rooted within the assumption that their marriage was no doubt Jackson, Mississippi upper-class white people picture P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

This couple has been married about as long as Angie and me.  We've known them for decades, having worshipped with them (same church) years prior.  But not only that, these two and their beautiful offspring have been featured repeatedly within print publications throughout the years.  Publications touting both their deep-seated faith and unconventional (yet obviously devout) approach to rearing their children.  To top it off, this couple is made up of two photogenically beautiful human beings, and not only from the standpoint of focusing on their health, but too, as it pertains to simply stellar DNA.  Intelligent, beautiful, charismatic = picture P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

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When Angie and I were first married, we worshipped with this couple and numerous others at First Baptist Church Jackson.  Angie at the time was working too for a massive international corporation that just happened to have a presence here in the Jackson Metro.  Hence, we found ourselves rubbing shoulders with the future "movers & shakers" of Jackson each time we stepped foot into that church.  Whether it was doctors, lawyers, accountants, heirs apparent to hugely successful enterprises, each represented crystallized perfection via how they dressed, where they lived and so forth. 

Yet, there of course, isn't any relational (& certainly not marital) perfection, is there?  

Marriages are tenuous.  Easily bruised.  Rarely solvent.  Under constant pressure.   

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What was so disturbing therein regarding my drive home was how unconvinced the wife looked compared to her beaming husband as they strode across the asphalt to their vehicle.  This woman has a powerfully emotive face, therefore I could read her expressions instantly during those few drive-by seconds.  

Perhaps her husband had launched a poorly timed joke that had fallen flat just moments prior.  I actually hope so.  Instead, what I saw seemed more of a potential reflection of what had transpired during the hour prior.

Very, very disturbing indeed.

What's that saying about a woman scorned?        

It's Endearing Providing Matrimonial Security (After All These 27 Years) Whilst Horizontal

I mentioned (within a previous post) our recent sleep divorce.  This was something facilitated by our middle daughter (also) leaving for college this fall.  In anticipation of this, over the course of this past summer, the "big girls" room was transformed - via new twin beds / mattresses - from child's room to extra bedroom.

Throughout, my wife was (somewhat privately) repositioning all of this on her own behalf.  Particularly when it came to the mattress purchases (they were quite luxuriously expensive).

My wife's "stroke arm" (her left arm) is often (most comfortable) extended perpendicular to her body whilst she snoozes.  Hence, our queen bed doesn't necessitate this well, particularly with her 200lb husband (me) adjacent.  

Hence, about a month ago (in tandem with daughter #2 leaving for college), the sleep divorce was finalized.  It took me absolutely no time to adjust accordingly, though there were a few nights of eeriness as I began to imagine that Angie had stroked out for a second time and had died. 

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Earlier this week, Angie announced that the sleep divorce was over.  She was ready to sleep re-marry.  

Why?

At first, she was sharing the room with our youngest daughter (8th grader) who was sleeping within the adjacent twin bed.  But that didn't last (her snoring quickly shut this Jill & Jill setup down).  

It was the aloneness that got to her.  Being there within that tiny bedroom by herself.

I'm wondering, though I haven't mentioned it, if it harkened back to her weeklong May 2020 hospital stay post-stroke.  Being ushered in and out of ICU a handful of times throughout that week, and being there alone (I was only allowed to visit for one hour midday, each day, due to pandemic restrictions), made a distinct impression.  

So now she's back in bed with her husband.  And, according to her, she's sleeping soundly.  

It feels nice to provide that security to her via exceedingly close proximity.

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My oldest friend's (college) somewhat recently widowed mom began sleeping with a call-in radio broadcast playing from the adjacent pillow.  She did this to honor her deceased husband's presence enough to replicate that deeply longed for feeling of husband security (her husband died in his early 90s).

Now she's found herself alone in the single-family home that they'd owned together for decades.  

Women crave security.  Men crave respect.    

Angie feels secure.  Rob feels respected.  Win-win.

Two Highly Recommended Regularly Scheduled Marriage Touchpoints

Angie and I are in uncharted territory as husband / wife.  Having been married 27 years, we've never experienced being (almost completely) empty nesters (2 of our 3 kidlets are out of the house).  It is an especially weird place to be residing within.  Our 1,550 square foot abode is so much less lively / loud.  There's so much less laundry to tend to.  Substantially less food to prepare.  We've even noticed how much cooler the house seems to be (even considering this brutally hot August).

She and I have discussed this weirdness when it's seemed appropriate, but overall, it's actually been difficult to describe where we're at.  More often than not, we just sort of stare at each other and shrug in an attempt to articulate this familial paradigm shift.  

Initially, I was so pleased to experience the absence of not just one (beginning two years prior) but two kidlets.  Now though, I'm enthralled at how bizarre it truly feels for both of our oldest children to be gone (college) and subsequently thriving on their own.

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Angie and I have always made praying together a priority.  Though it's never been calendared, we've consistently inserted it into our schedules ad hoc.  When we were early on in our marriage, we'd pray before going to sleep.  Usually, we'd hold hands whilst lying there, and one of us would intercede, speaking softly into the darkness.  

Now that we're sleep divorced (a practical, immensely satisfying development birthed from this almost empty-nester setup), our prayer time(s) happen in the living room.

But my point is they're still happening.  Regularly.  

Highly recommended.  Do this with your wife / girlfriend.  It's intimate and profoundly satisfying.

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A second commitment she and I have - to each other - is working out together.  Now, we don't shadow each other there in the Y, but we're loving the fact that we're together (strength training separately) within the same space during that time.  

This isn't something we've participated in together as a couple - consistently - for much longer than three years.  Angie's post-stroke rehabilitation deeply motivated her as to the importance of strength training.  That debilitating neurological event occurred in May of 2020.  As such, she hasn't looked back relative to our twice weekly sessions.

Again, highly recommended.  It's been tremendously helpful to our us.  And especially during this bizarre time within our marriage.

Lagniappe

Sympathizing With That Invisible Man (Let's Not Forget That Every Guy Isn't Necessarily Destined To Become A Samson Guy)

I have become a Samson guy through and through.  How do I know this?

I desire to spread the Samson Society "Good News" to most every new friend I make.

Even if they're not foreseeably "qualified" (in crisis) to be involved within this community.  

And that's a problem (relative to my friendship track record) because it proves I'm not being sensitive to my friend's needs / wiring.  Instead, I'm behaving more like that pyramid-scheme zealot friend who's looking to make a quick buck.

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"Hi, I'm Rob, and I'm a freak.  I actually lost my dream job as a campus architect (back in 2013) by breaking the institution's IT policy (looking at gay porn online / oversharing on my personal blog)."  

Yikes.  No thanks.  There must be a better way to respectably making an intro relative to my story.

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I'm working to streamline my testimony sans mentioning some of those details.  

Here it goes:

Invisibility has been a place (mindset) I learned to become comfortable within early on in life.  Being a covert mistake (illegitimate child) forced my teenage parents to survive (monetarily, relationally, emotionally) relative to the burden of responsibility / demands my very existence placed on our (almost overnight) 3-person family.

I had to have instinctively (subconsciously) known too that our survival stats would increase if I cooperated (obediently stayed out of the way).  Hence, as an outgrowth of that, I learned early on to inject humor into every feasible though often tense situation.  As such, I naturally became that kid who submerged himself into all manner of fantasy in order to garner that much more creative inspiration therein whilst also seeking escape from a "long shot survival" familial setup.  

All the while, my true feelings were locked away as I manifested my dramatic antics for most any audience available to me.  And this was fun to do due to the fact that I garnered laughs / support therein (I was very humorous).

And then I hit puberty.

From there, my secret weapon (zany antics) became moot as teenage self-consciousness kicked in with a vengeance.  

And this is when the glaring reality of my (up to that point) lifelong invisibility truly reared its head.  As such, idol worship (in the form of lust) which targeted the seemingly "less invisible" (peers, teachers, pastors, and so forth), took root within my psyche at full throttle.  

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At this point in my life (early middle school), I had drawn the conclusion that the gospel of Jesus Christ was anchored in the notion of the invisibles being seen.  Accounted for.  Pursued even.  

Moreso than salvation (though it was a very close second), I wanted that kind of clarity with God.  And in line with that, I desperately desired to be lead.  Especially so from the standpoint of someone who I was visible to (inside and out).  

But ultimately, it was me being cognizant of how survival instinct dependent I'd become relative to my idol worship that set me up beautifully to be lassoed in by the gospel.  

And that's exactly what happened to me during the summer prior to my 7th grade year.  Specifically at church camp.  In Mount Lebanon, TX.  Surrounded by close to one hundred other middle / high schoolers from First Baptist Church Jackson who were integrated amongst the throngs of other youth (groups) from all over Texas / the Deep South.

I vividly remember calling Darlene (my mom) from a pay phone, late into the night, post public profession of faith (walking the aisle) there at the camp.  She replied with, "I thought you'd already done that!?!"

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Had I not been able to faithfully bank on Jesus' "intimate knowing of Rob" (visibility) throughout middle / high school, all of the loneliness - brought on as a result of both the inarguable invisibleness itself combined with it as a demoralizing identifier - would have been too hard to bear.  

Yet, throughout, I was convinced his hand was consistently working on my behalf.  Hence, it provided hope / optimism towards the future whilst helping me manage this tough season.

As a student, I was fair to middling, but what gave me an edge was my confidence as a vocalist / singing from the platform.  Due to the fact that a sizable part of our (high school) youth ministry experience was tied to (Christian) choral music, I quickly found my place.  Whilst looking back, I believe this was one sizable example of God's providence.

At age 15, I was adamant about owning my own car.  My father insisted I get a job to partially fund said car / car insurance.  The effort in finding a job was laughably minimal, and the rewards therein were off the charts.  And though I worked an awful lot, it kept me busy / focused / taught me how to manage time well.  Plus, whilst working alongside a diverse set of other teens, I quickly learned an awful lot from their choices (both good and not so good).  This was not unlike, what I imagine, having a horde of siblings.  

During my senior year of high school, I applied and gained entrance into architecture school.  From there, music continued to provide a cushion as I also joined the MSU Maroon Band as a freshman.  And though church wasn't a priority whilst living fall / spring in Starkville, MS, I met students who were deeply devout who thankfully too became reliable friends.

Now, my penchant / comfort-level for / with invisibleness ushered me into the most important relational decision of my life.  Marriage.  For my one and only girlfriend, Angie, too dealt with this same phenomenon, but in lieu of skillfully masking it behind self-deprecating humor / sarcasm, she simply allowed her inner situation to reflect outwardly.  And oh, my goodness, was she ever that much more beautifully delicate because of it.  

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It didn't take me long to fall in love with her.  From there, I felt compelled to talk to my parents about my idol worship and how it was weighing me down morally / spiritually.  For I'd never addressed that with anyone.  I was so grateful that they pointed me towards therapy that was specific to my issue, and from there, I divulged to Angie.

Now, let me stop here and expound on who I was attempting to be at this time.

As an early 20s young man, I knew I'd matured into an adult and was ready for a steady job / marriage, but I also knew that I was continuing to attempt to manage the fallout from my invisible childhood / teen years in ways that were wreaking havoc on my soul (shame).  Because this was a battle that I fought privately, I optimistically sought out opportunities (post marriage) to find support (mentorship / parachurch men's groups, Christian men's retreats, etc.) amongst Christian brothers.  

Whilst doing so, what I found instead was only more situations which promoted me feeling invisible.  

So, what did I do to cope?

I turned to humor / entertaining once more as I worked reflexively to deflect my true feelings in order to survive (plus, there were bills to pay, a marriage to support, career demands).

Unfortunately though, as a result, I eventually lost the ability to see any of my self.  Instead, if I chose to look inwards, I only could see a void.  Hence, in many ways, I became detached from my moorings due to the fact that I had no idea where I truly existed within the rank & file of men.

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When the Internet came on the scene, Angie and I had only been married for a few years.  We were actively involved in church / a young married Sunday School class, and Angie was just beginning to emerge from a 2-year struggle with general anxiety disorder (thanks be to God for her wonderful therapist).  

For me, the Internet immediately represented an opportunity to take my idol worship to new heights.  As such, I knew not where else to turn but my sweet wife for help.

And she did until eventually, the availability of the Internet became ubiquitous.  Being too hard to hide from, I succumbed habitually.

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At this point, I found myself in a technology-focused culture that I loathed due to how powerless / even more invisible it made me feel.  I instinctively shunned involvement within mainstream tech trends (social media), but Internet porn had a vise grip on me that I simply could not loosen alone.

But then there was a significant turning point in the form of a friend.

My first truly authentic (vulnerable) Christian friend proved to me that relational accountability was far more potent than the allure of my "digital fix".  This younger man came into my life in 2010.  I was in my late 30s at the time, and he was four years younger.  We both had small children, both loved Jesus, but were both in the aforementioned digital vice grip.

Up until early 2012, he and I were as close as brothers.  As such, we met weekly, savoring every moment of our time together.

Later on that same year, I was presented with the opportunity to uproot my family and move to small town Mississippi in order to take an administrative position at a university.  Naively, I believed I'd find friendship there as I'd just experienced back home.

When that didn't occur, the vise grip returned with a vengeance.  In response, I cried out for help online (oversharing on my personal blog).  Help didn't come.  Instead, judgement and demonization were doled out unremittently via my now employer.  There was nothing left of me after this occurred.  At this point within my life, my feelings of invisibleness reached paralyzing new heights.

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As a result of this rejection / termination, I developed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  This lasted +/-18 months with me having to endure flashbacks of my firing at least once daily.  Our young family returned to the Jackson Metro immediately following my job loss, and from there, I began working for my parents (October of 2013).  

I cannot begin to describe how blatantly unseen I felt at this point in time.  As such, I fell into a deep depression which fostered suicidal thoughts.  The emotional pain I was experiencing was suffocating me.  As such, I simply wanted it to stop by any means possible.  

After complaining about this to my sweet wife, she encouraged me to dialogue similarly with my dad.  From there, he triangulated me into a relationship with a local renowned counselor, Mr. Don Waller.  

This was August of 2014.

Unbeknownst to me, Don had been facilitating the first Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society group for close to one year.  After meeting with him one-on-one, he encouraged me to attend the very next week.

That first Samson Society meeting was the hardest to walk into.  There were 8-9 local men in attendance, each with various backgrounds / from different stages of life.  Afterwards, and I'll likely never forget this, we attended a Mississippi Braves baseball game together.  It was the most fun I'd had in close to one year.

What I discovered through the Samson Society was communal visibility unlike anything I'd experienced prior.  Hence, I stuck with attending this weekly meeting combined with going to each and every after-meeting.  From there, I attended my first localized Samson intensive during the summer of 2015.  Additional intensives followed in 2016 and 2017.  Not long after that, I even organized my own intensive for a handful of Samson guys to experience (February of 2018).

The National Samson Society retreat too became part of my pursuit to be seen.  I began attending those annual events in 2018.  

Throughout all of this, I watched as the local Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society expanded as Samson guys felt compelled to start their own groups throughout the Metro.  

Surprisingly (to myself), I segued to virtual Samson meetings in late 2021, having met some of the virtual meeting facilitators via my attending of the National Retreats.  

In closing, for Rob, ultimately, it's about being seen.  Starting and maintaining this blog corresponds with that pursuit.  As such, writing has been a huge part of my recovery.

To God be the glory, great things he hath done via Samson Society!  I am truly zealous regarding this fantastic lifeline.

Never Renovate / Upgrade Without The Next Homeowner In Mind

Real estate typically far outlasts homeowners.  Hence, it's wise to always make upgrades to one's property with the next (& the next) homeowner in mind.  

My wife and I invested a boatload of time and energy last year into preparing my mother-in-law's northeast Jackson abode to be sold.  One major overhaul had to do with the lighting in the +/-3,000 sf building.  A major annoyance was the fact that the electrician we hired to replace all of the original fixtures had to be repeatedly called back in order to finish the job completely.  Some of this had to do with us adding additional (unforeseen) scope, but too, some items simply were missed outright.

When the four-decades-old truckload(s) of junk was eventually removed and discarded from the attic, the electrician's job became somewhat easier, and as such, we made an interesting discovery.

On the rear of the house, there were three original twin-PAR lamp outdoor fixtures (floodlights) mounted to the soffit corners.  No matter how hard we tried, we could not get these lights to work.  Eventually though, the truth behind these darkened fixtures was unearthed (thanks to the aforementioned attic access).

My father-in-law, at some point in the past, had hired someone to cut the Romex (splayed haphazardly across the top of the ceiling joists) that was circuited to all three of these outdoor fixtures.  And it wasn't snipped in just one spot either.  Hence, no matter how many times you flipped the light switches, none of them would illuminate.

Why did he hire someone to do this?  Efficiency and speed in solving a ramification tied to a much larger (& more complicated) problem.

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If Nate Larkin, the founder of Samson Society, has any similarities to my deceased father-in-law, it's his path-of-least-resistance approach to growing / making accessible to the masses this amazing community of Christian men.  And that's not because Nate's lazy.  Not at all.  Instead, for Nate, it was all smartly centered around efficiency and speed.  And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that top-down approach.  But, there's come a point in time where it's no longer viable (forward-thinking).

Why?

Mr. Nate Larkin (Samson Society Founder) is in his mid-60s.  Dr. Tom Moucka (Samson House Director) too is no spring chicken.  Their friendship has, in many ways, embodied what it means to be within this community.  As such, over time, all of us Samson Society "seasoned members" (primarily virtual) have surfaced around these two, and though we've never demanded to have a voice within the org, there was an inevitable "bursting at the seams" that was soon to occur if we weren't recognized formally.

But that has now changed (for the better).

Tuesday, (7/25/23) was the initial Samson Society virtual facilitators' meeting.  It happened via Zoom, and though the topics were scant (fundraising / Silas etiquette / expectations), they were super important, nonetheless.  Much discussion ensued (amongst the +/-35-40 facilitators) as a result (it lasted for well over one hour).  

You could tell in Nate's delivery, throughout that meeting, that he felt some form of pseudo-guilt relative to not bringing the group facilitators together sooner.  Nonetheless, it did occur, and now we're off and running.  Everyone can exhale.  

Middle management may get an off the cuff bad wrap, but the men of Samson, all the men of Samson, are in a way represented by their specific group's facilitator.  These guys represent the future of Samson Society.  It's their leadership (committees & so forth) that will carry this organization into the future.  And though our involvement may somewhat complicate the process of running Samson Society, that's okay.  It's a trade-off that's worth embracing for the greater good.

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My wife and I theorize that her dad had someone covertly snip the Romex wiring to those outdoor floodlights as an easy means to eliminate the neighbors' complaining about the floodlights being switched on and off crazily (incessantly during the evening).

My mother-in-law has always constantly (obsessively / nervously) fiddled with buttons / switches.  For example, the lock / unluck buttons on a car keyfob, she'll click incessantly if she herself is idling (perhaps conversing with someone) near the vehicle (& as such has the keyfob in her hand).  She does the same with wall switches / thermostats.  Particularly if there're other folks within the room(s).  She'll do this whilst habitually asking "Is there enough light in here? or Should we turn on / off the ceiling fan? or Is it just me or is it hot in here?"  If you've just met her, you'd never pick up on what's really going on, yet any average intelligence person, with enough exposure to her, will recognize that something's seriously off.

The wall switches for the aforementioned outdoor floodlights, no doubt, were perfect compulsory targets relative to her obsession with fiddling with buttons / switches.

Therefore, in lieu of my father-in-law somehow convincing his wife to stop her fiddling (she was NEVER going to stop / hasn't stopped since), he simply covertly killed the circuit by having the wiring cut.  Hence, she could fiddle with the wall switches all she wanted to, yet no one would be truly annoyed / motivated to ask pointed questions (particularly the neighbors) as a result.

Obviously, we had to disclose this bizarre electrical defect (we'd no remaining patience to tap into relative to having the fixtures rewired) whilst attempting to sell her house.  It didn't sell any easier as a result.  

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Samson Society is Mr. Nate Larkin's dream come true.  But at the same time, it's now ours (this army of facilitators) too.  Thanks, Nate, for letting us inside.  We've the same intentions as you yourself.  Your dream will be in good hands (though procedurally we'll likely not be the most efficient / speedy decisionmakers).

A Truly Loyal, Loving Samson Brother Is Adept At Holding His Nose (If Momma's Not Happy, Nobody's Happy)

This past winter, my oldest Samson friend asked Angie and I to "double-date" with he and his wife to a local 2023 summer concert.  The tickets for said concert were about to be made available (February), and since we'd very much enjoyed ourselves over the course of a few evenings with these two (throughout the past 8 years), we agreed to shell out the cash for our two adjacent tickets.  Keep in mind that my Samson friend as well as his wife are concert aficionados (live music lovers), and we most certainly are not.  Too, this particular artist we'd absolutely no interest in hearing in concert.  Nonetheless, we really liked the idea of double-dating with these beloveds, knowing that this couple, based on past experience, were reliably fun to spend time with.

The night before the concert, my Samson friend called to announce that his wife no longer had any interest in attending the concert.  As a result, my Samson brother too decided to abandon us (out of "respect" for her).  Earlier that week (perhaps over the weekend), this friend had shockingly confessed that he and his wife had been separated for close to a month.  In spite of our time together earlier in the year, we weren't privy to their marriage woes, nor would we have ever recognized it.

Angie and I did decide to attend the concert.  We saw a number of familiar faces in the (mostly) inebriated crowd.  The vocalist sang about a pig, and from there, we decided to leave at intermission, having felt as if we had literally set ablaze +/-$300 (the retail price for our two tickets).

I felt duped, but too, very thankful that my Angie has never relationally humiliated me in an attempt to control / punish me.

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A wife who attempts to control her husband, primarily via criticism and posturing, combined with insisting on being his moral nanny, is one of my greatest revulsions.

But some Samson guys are literally wired for this treatment as husbands, thereby giving these ladies the utmost respect and servitude.

I have seen it time and time again.

The easiest way to spot these husbands is via their speech.  

If you were to take a week's worth of their verbiage and examine its content, a decided portion (high percentage) would center around the wife.  As if she's primarily what he thinks about and thereby he can't stop talking about (approval?).

At the tail end of last year (off season), our family was vacationing within the same Gulf Coast resort area as a (fairly new) Samson brother (he too was there with his fam).  I excitedly recommended we merge our clans for a shared meal (restaurant / one of our condos) in hopes of having the opportunity to mingle with his fam.  He relayed to me that was not an option due to the fact that his wife refused to "dirty herself & her children" with her husband's perverted Samson Society friends (me & my girls).  Hence, he and I agreed to a meet up early one morning (coffee) before either of our respective vacations expired.  He spent the majority of our time together talking (& weeping) incessantly about, can you guess?

His wife.

I pitied this man.  For it was obvious that he was moreso in bondage to her than any sort of compulsive sexual sin.  Yet, he dutifully seemed to feed off of said bondage / attention.

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During my time working as an architect (during the late '90s), I had a colleague who no doubt had codependent tendencies (I had no formal understanding of this word at the time), and it was his wife who obviously fulfilled that role.  It was the creepiest marriage relationship I'd ever seen.  I remember becoming nauseous (along with most everyone else) every time I'd see the two of them together (which thankfully wasn't that often).  

Fast forward.

A longstanding Samson brother too fell into that same codependency camp.  His marriage though was decades and decades in length, and shockingly, this couple had only engaged in intercourse three times throughout their entire betrothal (both husband and wife were perfectly healthy, middle-aged white people).  It was during one of those three fucks that his wife became pregnant with their only child.

My friend would lament that his wife would privately berate him incessantly regarding how he had destroyed  / was destroying their marriage due to his compulsive online porn use (among other things).

And he seemingly fed on this criticism / nagging.  For he was hooked onto her criticism like a babe is latched onto his mother's teat.    

Whenever I rub shoulders with this couple today, I have to resist the urge to fall to my knees in order to thank God for my Angie.

But that's just me.  

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All this leads me to a young Samson friend who's agreed to his wife's demands relative to real-time slip-up ("acting out") communication / confession.  

I've told him how stupid this agreement was / is, but he refuses to stop doing it.  And, of course, his wife uses it to control him, knowing full well that she's receiving privileged information that's giving her the emotionally-strategic upper hand.  

I could go on and on.  There are Samson guys who take regularly scheduled lie-detector tests for their wives or provide their wives with pocket computer apps that allow them to read their husband's text messages - in real time.  

I've seen Samson guys who share an email address with their wives, encouraging them to read them in kind.  

I've even befriended a Samson guy who allowed his wife to install a camera in their bedroom in order for her to be able to spy on him - at her discretion - whilst away from the house (via her pocket computer).

Weird shit, indeed.

All of this, ultimately, puts the wife in the marriage's (emotional) driver's seat, and these husbands are absolutely thrilled to be relinquishing that responsibility.

Thanks be to God for my sweet wife, Angie, who has no interest in behaving this way within our marriage, but again, this is how I'd prefer it.

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In closing, what should you do if you befriend a married Samson brother as I've described here?  

Hold your nose, and never, under any circumstance assume that he's not parroting every word / detail you speak to him back to his "mommy" (I've made this mistake!).

Lagniappe

More lagniappe

Help Me Lord To Not Discriminate (See Them As Less Than) Against Divorcees

I've always subconsciously deemed divorcees as second-class citizens.  My first memory of making this adjudication occurred not long after I married (27 years ago).  Our church (First Baptist Church Jackson) hosted a Saturday morning "men's conference" at the newly constructed Hinds Community College Eagle Ridge conference center in Raymond.  I was in my mid-20s at the time.

One of the keynote speakers was Mr. Stephen Kirkpatrick, a local professional wildlife photographer.  During Mr. Kirkpatrick's short talk, he acknowledged his grieving over his (recent) divorce.  I vividly remember feeling nauseous as he admitted to this for I was (very) newly married.  

From there, he displayed his slide deck of beautiful wildlife photographs, providing commentary alongside.  I ended up leaving during the break, feeling alienated and duped, unable to see past his marital failure.

Fast forward to today.  If Mr. Nate Larkin were a divorcee, would I be as committed therein to this ministry as I currently am?  Not a chance.

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I've been told that I feel at 150%, and I believe it, though I've learned to manage this far better now than when I was younger.  

This sensitivity serves as the relational glue relative to my (over?)commitment to friendships, but at the same time, it can be the bane of my private existence.  

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Regarding Mr. Kirkpatrick, one of the first questions that came to mind is, what series of events justified the divorce?  Especially considering his obvious success, good looks, intelligence, articulation, leadership skills, and so forth.  Yet, there's no way to answer that inquiry.  It's a moot point.  Instead, I was simply forced to hold the emotional fallout (as a spectator) and do with it what I so chose.

Divorce to me equates to the ultimate unnecessary hopelessness.  Because it's a permanent failure that involves a woman (& often children), it's emotionally overwhelming to process.  

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What I don't take into account is that individuals make mistakes.  Some marry extremely difficult to love spouses.  

I also don't consider the fact that humans aren't perfect.  Especially when it comes to managing relationships.

Lastly, addiction, abuse and adultery are immediate dealbreakers relative to marriage vows.

I hate divorce.  Even though I know it's necessary in many instances.

Help me Lord to not see divorcees as less than.  It's simply not fair to them.  But also, help me to not lose my disdain for this travesty.

Wife Material

Based on my observations / experience, here're some mainstays relative to choosing a wife you'll want to stay married to "'till death do us part".  

1.  She wasn't reared within a substantially (ultra) materially wealthy home (with all the typical trappings).

2.  She doesn't smoke cigarettes.

3.  She knows how to cook food (& enjoys the process of preparing meals / expanding her knowledge therein).

4.  She isn't constantly picking up stray animals / rescuing them by bringing them home as permanent residents.

5.  She clearly understands that married women DO NOT have intimate (close) male friends (no matter their sexual preference).

6.  She's abhorrent towards the idea of gratuitously posting selfies on social media, and likewise, strategically categorizes social media as a juvenile time-waster.

7.  She's willing to yield to her husband.

8.  She's not mentally ill (or showing signs of severe mental illness).

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& now for my commentary regarding each of these:

1.  Women who're reared in ultra-material wealth typically look to marry into a similarly portfolio-ed tribe.  If your fam is within that category, then this #1 doesn't apply to you.  Go right ahead and marry that silver spoon.  But if you're a plebeian from a plebeian tribe, my advice is to steer clear of these ladies.

And only because their demographic expectations may very well put a substantial amount of pressure on you as her husband.  Plus, based on what I've observed, ultra-wealthy in-laws often leverage much of their influence via their ability to shower material gifts that are far from appropriate.  And this can especially be problematic when grandchildren come on the scene.

Ultimately, if you find yourself seriously romantically involved within one of these monetarily asymmetrical setups, take some substantial time to query your love about her "standard of living" ideals going forward - 5, 15, 25 years into the future.

2.  My wife worked as the CFO of a software company years ago, and one of the three owners was a woman who smoked cigarettes.  She was in her early 60s at the time, and no doubt had a college degree, having had the vocational success she'd achieved.  But, she hid the cigarette smoking as best she could because she knew, just as everyone else did, that it reflected a serious personality flaw of hers.  

Professional men typically smoke (though not always) as a means to demarcate their community.  Professional women smoke because it's a crutch.  

You shouldn't be involved with a woman who's on crutches.

3.  In line with this simple-to-understand statement is the following truth:  EVERY HUSBAND SHOULD BE ABLE TO PREPARE THE SAME MEAL HIS WIFE DOES (just not as expertly).  The best way to avoid family budget crisis is to meal plan / prepare 99% of meals at home.  And this includes meals (lunch) that are consumed during work hours.  Restaurants of every ilk have exploded in popularity over the past 25 years.  Compared to my growing-up years during the '80s, the concentrated quantity of restaurants is absolutely staggering.  Mated to that are all the gimmicks they offer up to us consumers.  From smartphone apps to drive-through options, it's absolutely mind blowing.

If your wife loathes cooking, and there's a houseful of mouths to feed, that's a problem.  Now, if you're (hubby) up to doing all the meal planning and cooking, so be it.  But here's the caveat:  Somebody's got to shop for the food that's prepared at home.  In essence, they've got to take the meal plan, generate a grocery list and purchase those items.  From there, those items must be transported home, unloaded and put away.  

In our household, for the most part, that's (grocery shopper) always been my job.  

4.  That's a no brainer.  No commentary needed.

5.  This too is a no brainer.  If a woman will not embrace this level of respect for her man (future husband), she' not wife material.

6.  Isn't it sad that I have to include this within the list?  Are you wanting to marry a girl or a woman?  If it's the latter, there's a definitive mindset towards time-wasting vices like these that will be apparent to you.

7.  Wives who're willing to yield recognize that marriages cannot be two-headed.  Marriage is not a democracy or a 50/50 partnership.  If it were, it would eventually tear itself apart.  

Now, wives can certainly interject their opinion, waxing poetic regarding the situation at hand, but ultimately, it comes down to the husband bringing finality to the matter (with grace & dignity).  

If you examine popular culture's take on marriage (television), you'll never see this complementary hierarchy in action.  Typically, the husband is an idiot, and therefore the wife is left to lead cunningly.  Sometimes too, you'll see whatever scripted, insignificant ordeal resolve "on its own creative accord" in spite of the conflicted opinions between the spouses.  All this downplays the yielding that someone's got to buy into within marriage.  A yielding that (if originating from the wife) embodies the utmost respect for her husband and his competency as the head of the household.  

8.  This too is self-explanatory.  Marriage is hard enough as it is, much less with a woman who's struggling with serious (very difficult to treat) mental illness issues (bipolar, clinical depression, borderline personality disorder, schizophrenia).  

If A Husband Demands That His Wife Deactivate Her Social Media Accounts, Is She Obligated To?

Similarly, if a husband demands that his wife not wear leggings, should she be obligated to obey / yield to his demands?

Too, (just one more) is it okay for a wife to leave her family's church (due to her unhappiness with the preaching style / content) in order to begin attending another church on her own?  It's important to note that she'd be doing so in spite of her husband being an upstanding elder of their church.

Yikes.  These are tough questions that need some serious context prior to attempting to answer.  That being said, I don't have any context, therefore here're some succinct answers:  

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Regarding social media account deactivation, she's only obligated to do so if he's done so firstly.

Regarding leggings, I have no idea how to answer this one.  I do know that it's important to keep in mind that clothing trends are not static, and that it cannot be assumed that the majority of men find women's asses to be their number one turnon.

Regarding her abandoning the family's church, I suspect there's an underlying issue here that's desperately needing to be addressed.  An issue(s) that's compelled her to rebel to this extent.  Seek out that issue and loop in professional / pastoral help (assuming she'll cooperate) if need be.

Lagniappe

Partnership

Over the past few days, I've worked tirelessly (& I'm not exaggerating) to assist my wife (of 26 years) in preparing her mother's northeast Jackson home to be listed with a realtor.  That entailed handyman and housework from morning 'till night within a mazelike 3,000 sf abode.  An abode which more or less is just as it was whilst initially occupied by her family in the early '80s.  

And when I say that, I'm also referring to all of the unresolved emotional trauma my wife, her younger brother and father endured therein (at the hand of Angie's mother).  Childhood trauma that is easily stirred even today, all these years later, by her elderly mother's (who's been catered to throughout this months' long process) tongue.  Not to mention her having to spend hours upon hours (+/-50 total days since last fall) sorting through her parents' belongings whilst inside the setting of said abuse.

On Monday, (8/15) evening, after we'd returned home and I'd had a chance to shower, Angie and I sat in the living room of our very-intentionally small abode and chatted about our quite exhausting day together.  What was obvious, in spite of our said exhaustion, is we simply relished the sense of partnership.  Now, it's important that you know that she's the one who's primarily poured herself into this 6+ month project on behalf of her mother.  As such, it was only this week that my aforementioned "services" were warranted.  Hence, we (as partners) really hadn't the necessity to attack the giant collectively.  

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Within walking distance from Angie's childhood home, I vividly remember us as dating love birds, sitting quietly - after dark - snuggled close on a park bench on a cool fall evening.  She and I often talked and talked during our courtship, and this night was no different.  Thankfully, our chattiness served many purposes, one of which was staving off the physicality (fornication) between us.  

But this night ended differently than any other we'd experienced up to that point.  On this night, as we strolled back to her parents' home in the dark, she sobbed tears of shame and fear as she anxiously begged me to never leave her behind due to her parents' personal (mental health, neglect, wickedness) issues.

I remember nonchalantly blowing all that off.  I felt as if she was being overly fearful, never realizing - in those moments - that this was her childhood trauma revealing itself.  I reminded her that I'd known her family (formally) since I was a teen, growing up (too) at First Baptist Church Jackson.  

Nonetheless, whilst looking back today, I can tell you that I've had enough of my fill of in-law rancor to easily justify walking away from our marriage.  All due to the seeds of discord consistently sown and cultivated by her reflexively condescending parents.  

All in all, the best words I can use to describe our experience regarding her family is:  unrelentingly difficult.  

Imagine driving from one side of the country to the other (East to West coast) but having to do so in reverse.  Hence, you're disqualified from using the interstate system (or any other divided highway).  Instead, you're handicapped to using all kinds of back roads.  In reverse.  As a result, the fatigue is constant (massively impeding your progress) since you're always looking over your shoulder in order to make any headway on your journey.  Whilst looking back, this ridiculous analogy fits.  Yet, Angie never for one moment wasn't worth constantly working - as partners - relative to outwitting the manipulativeness and deceit that were Bob and Edie Sigrest.

As an aside, you must know that the best year of our marriage (most of 2013) was when we lived in Cleveland, MS (2.5 hours - by car - from Jackson, MS) of all places.  And this was because we were far removed from my in-laws.  Angie smiled every day, and she was so sad when I was fired from my job (resulting in us having to return to Jackson, MS).

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My wife and I are slated to pick back up with our hands-on partnership this forthcoming weekend (437 Northpointe Parkway).  I'm looking forward to again - physically - standing with her for such a time as this.  Demons be damned.  It feels as if we're finally close to sealing up this Pandora's Box once and for all.

Lagniappe

Divorce

Samson guys are often either being threatened by the prospect of their wife divorcing them, or they're in the throes of divorce proceedings themselves.  Many of these men are moreso committed to Samson Society because of this, having little to no hope otherwise.  For I've never met a Samson guy who's supportive of divorce. 

Divorce is an exit strategy.  It's also a punishment technique.  

Regardless, women who divorce often become deeply jaded / bitter and rightly so.  Marriages are designed / sought after to bring long-lasting security for women.  When instead there're lies / deceit / cheating / debauchery and so forth, bitterness easily takes root as their bedrock crumbles away.

On the flip side, of course, is the husband's point of view / motivation, many of which profoundly believe their poor choices (leading up to / resulting in the divorce) were fostered by their wife's own personal shortcomings.  And this save face lookback narrative can oftentimes be bolstered by couples' therapists / family / friends.

Ultimately, the breakdown between husband / wife is oftentimes due to the marriage becoming no longer a private two-person relationship but instead, a sort of microcosmic communal experience.  Now, considering drug / alcohol addiction, criminal activity, or sexual / physical abuse, those experiences can - to some degree - remain "in the marriage" exclusively.  Therein warranting divorces that are more private.  Many of these situations are simply about survival.

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I mentioned the word punishment at the top of this post.  

More and more, I'm becoming convinced that this may be the devilish behind-the-scenes motivator for the majority of women who seek (public) divorces.  For divorced men, in western societies, are forever marked as failures, and this label can never be erased.  

Women lose less in (western) divorces.  Much moreso relative to certain demographics.  Emotionally, they're often capable of finding security once again (particularly if they're sexually proficient) as they seek to remarry.  

Men value respect more than anything else.  A divorced man is a marked man is a less qualified man...  You catch my drift.

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My mom cheated on my dad when I was around 10 years old.  The adulterous affair occurred between her and her boss, and it was on and off for quite some time.  Her boss too was married, yet him residing with his family in Nashville (I believe) perhaps made his poor choices more strategically justifiable.  

Her position under this man - sometimes literally - (management role at a weight-loss center in Jackson) compensated her well as a result of her work ethic, poise & striking good looks.  Keep in mind that this all occurred during the early '80s, and women overall weren't typically appointed to ANY administrative positions (especially with only a high school diploma to speak of).    

As my mother's only child, I watched firsthand how her actions emotionally eviscerated my father.  But too, I somewhat pitied her situation (particularly looking back on it as a teen).  She'd married (as an 18-year-old expectant mother) an amoeba, yet she had been wooed (as a 28-year-old) by a stallion.  In fact, her lover was such the stallion that my own father (my mom's husband) was - to a degree - unabashedly a tepid admirer of this older man in his own sick, twisted way. 

I cannot tell you how much money I'd pay to meet this stallion today (assuming he's still alive) in order to know his story firsthand.  Not as an admirer in my own right but in order to better understand the dynamics at play, forty years ago.

Nonetheless, I believe my father chose not to divorce my mother because he knew he'd ultimately receive the short end of the deal.  Too, it might have very well resulted in my mother obtaining what she'd now had a taste of.  That being an immense amount of additional spousal support (women's prized possession).

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Besides experiencing the results (fallout) of adultery on a familial plane, I absolutely became resolved, as a young man, to not grow into an amoeba as my father had.  For I'd no desire to ever give anyone who depended on me pause relative to being spineless.  

And keep in mind that I wasn't at all motivated as a young man to seek out / identify with the whole marriage paradigm.  Yet, even as it related to my friends, this supportive strength became my end goal.

Today, one of the primary attributes I look for in friendship is (reciprocal) strength.  To be more specific, I'm referring to strength that's rooted in supporting Rob.  As such, I simply don't make assumptions.  Instead, I put it to the test.  And this takes time and patience which sometimes results in disappointment.  

Regarding Samson Society, this approach too applies to the men who I choose as my Silas.  

It is weird recognizing the fact that some stallion, who I'll never meet, made such an impact on Rob.  An impact caused by so much pain and heartache as a result of his acting on said sexual attraction towards my mother.    

Lagniappe